


Taking Care of You

by Not_You



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Spanking, Sticky Sex, bottom!Optimus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a tfanonkink prompt, which was essentially, "Needs moar spankings."  I replied that the clanking of imagined robospanking gave me the giggles, and then decided to challenge myself.</p><p>So, after "Attack of the Autobots" Optimus is feeling a little emo over attacking his loved ones even if he was mind-controlled.  Bumblebee is not having that crap.  First time writing sticky, hope it doesn't show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Care of You

"Optimus?"

He raises his helm from his hands and struggles to calm his field. Misery darkens it, and anger disturbs the flow, warping his soft, steady glow into flickering whorls and spikes that won't quite smooth out. "What is it, Bumblebee?"

"Just thought I should check on you." His own golden shimmer is buzzing and popping with worry, and the little crackles that Optimus knows are real fear make circuits deep within twinge with guilt and pain. For Bumblebee to be afraid of him, and with such good cause, is almost more than he can bear.

"Optimus, no." The same words as his pleading before, and Optimus hides his optics again, frame thrumming with anger that has nowhere to go. "Optimus." Bumblebee's voice is gentle, and he rests his hand on Optimus's arm. "You know as well as I do that what happened wasn't your fault."

"That doesn't help me much, Bee."

He vents a sigh. "Didn't think it would, Worries Too Much Prime." Optimus chuckles, feeling a bit better as his little friend climbs into his lap, golden field almost back to normal. "And I've been scared for you, not of you. You take such good care of us that I knew you'd take it hard."

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost any of you, and I don't want to find out."

Bumblebee nods. "Yeah." They sit in silence for a moment, and then Bumblebee looks up at him again. "Hey, you know what you need?"

"What?" Optimus asks, amused.

"A spanking!"

He doesn't say anything in response, just steams a little, components overheating with embarrassment. Bumblebee grins. "Yeah, definitely." He hops down and gestures grandly to the floor. "You know the drill, Optimus!"

Optimus does know the drill, and tries not to whimper as he gets on his hands and knees, aft up. In this position it's about even with Bumblebee's shoulders, and Optimus knows from experience that minibots are a lot stronger than they look. But Bumblebee won't use that strength to really hurt him. "There's a good mech. Just relax, Optimus. Let me take care of you."

Optimus _does_ whimper at that, because he shouldn't be asking someone so much younger and lower-ranked to take care of him, but he needs it so badly. "It's okay," Bumblebee says, running a tiny, gentle hand over his aft. "I like doing this. You know that."

Optimus nods, and then just rests his helm on the floor, steaming more than ever and spreading his legs a little more for stability. Behind him Bumblebee laughs. It's a kind sound, though, and Optimus relaxes a little, nodding when Bumblebee asks if he's ready. The nod is all the little mech needs, and Optimus jumps, the first strike always such a shock. His pressure sensors can't help but translate it as pain, but it's such a surface pain that it doesn't do much more than make Optimus achingly aware of the whole area, and of each small impact on his warm metal. It's like the patter of raindrops magnified, swift, sure strikes that make all his circuits tingle. Bumblebee shifts around enough to cover his whole aft, but always seems to land each blow where Optimus needs it, never crushing the pressure sensors more than he wants him to and finding every neglected bit of metal. Between strikes he caresses Optimus's plates, and murmurs to him about how gorgeous he is and how much he loves to see him let go.

Before long Optimus's higher functions are quiet, all main processor threads dedicated to memorizing this, to listening to Bumblebee's soft, quick venting over his own deeper, more ragged sounds, to feeling this sweet ache and the sting of each clanking blow. He rocks forward a little on his elbows, trembling all through his frame. He can't worry about anything because he can't even think, valve casing sliding open of its own accord. The movement releases a small flow of lubricant, and Optimus groans, embarrassed but full of longing, too. His valve aches, and the feeling only intensifies when Bumblebee speeds up, hitting him harder now, closer to real pain but not there yet. It warms the plates all over his body, and he rumbles like his alternate form's engine, shivering as his spike inches out. He enjoys it just as much, but his valve has always been more responsive, easier to bring out. Bumblebee loves both, and reaches around to stroke Optimus's spike, coaxing it out even as his valve releases more lubricant as it irises tightly closed, resizing for Bumblebee's spike.

"Please, Bee, please..."

"Hey, you know I'll take care of you. Roll over, Prime."

Optimus whimpers and obeys, wriggling as his sore aft touches the cool floor. Bumblebee grins at him, kneeling between his spread legs. Optimus likes doing this on all fours, but Bumblebee would have to leave him long enough to find something to stand on and can't allow that. "I know, Optimus," Bumblebee says, stroking his own spike and lining up with Optimus's tight, tight valve. "Maybe next time." And then he slides in and Optimus cries out, one hand on Bumblebee's back as he fucks him hard and fast, wielding that little spike delicately to hit every single sensor node. They're so much closer together when Optimus is tight like this, and he groans, putting his free arm over his optics, so close to overload already. Bumblebee just hums, and drives Optimus over the edge, watching him buck and wail and emit bursts of static as his field glares its brightest and then slowly fades down to normal, his frame still quivering beneath Bumblebee, glass covered in transfluid. Hazy and half offline, he cuddles Bumblebee as he rocks to his own finish, whimpering and shaking so quickly it becomes a buzz as his field washes the room in glimmering gold and then sinks down to normal, mingling with Optimus's as they struggle to keep from slipping into recharge right here on the floor.


End file.
